


Sunrise Guilt Trips

by stuckinamber



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Common Cold, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, but he tries, he really does, i'm just dipping my toes back into writing, plz forgive me if I've lost all writing abilities whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinamber/pseuds/stuckinamber
Summary: ' “...Diego?” A gravelly voice mumbled, its owner not sounding one bit like his usual overzealous self.A pair of glassy eyes were looking at him in confused misery. Diego reached out for his brother’s forehead with a frown. “Hey, bro. You sick?”Klaus shuddered a bit and shrugged.“Well, you’re definitely warm.” '





	Sunrise Guilt Trips

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello! I've been lurking around all these lovely tua fanfics for a while now and have 150% been inspired to try my hand at writing again. It's been a hot sec and I'm definitely still feeling rusty and unsure of myself, but maybe a good ole sick fic will get me back in the swing of things.

There was no use sitting in the sleepless, early morning glow of his childhood bedroom, Diego drowsily reasoned, dragging himself down the stairs of the Hargreeves mansion. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well start the day early by stealing some of Five’s fancy, overpriced coffee. 

Even if it was 4:07am and Diego was running on the fumes of his fumes. 

Shuffling through the living room, he stopped abruptly at a mass of blankets and snoring coming from the couch. Forty two bedrooms in this house and there was only one person who would take up communal space in their living room when he had a perfectly good bedroom all to himself. 

“Klaus,” Diego grumbled, lightly shoving his brother’s arm, “go to bed, it’s late.”

His brother seemed so weary in these newfound days of post-apocalyptic sobriety, almost as though a sudden gust of wind would blow him onto another planet and away from his siblings. Although he couldn’t blame Klaus. They all were tired, they were all feeling weary. It wasn’t everyday you reconnected with your estranged siblings (one of which was lost during some weird time traveling shit and another who could apparently become corporeal as a result of Klaus’ powers) and evaded the apocalypse after the suicide of your twisted, “eccentric millionaire” father.

But only one Hargreeves went to war for ten months. Only one Hargreeves fell in love and watched a bullet end it all. Only one Hargreeves was tortured and forced into a dangerous detox--   
Diego shook his head with a heavy sigh. Letting his mind spiral like this was never helpful, but he’d feel better if Klaus slept in his own bed; not uncomfortably folded up like this on the living room couch. 

Maybe he wouldn’t look so goddamn exhausted in the morning.   
Perhaps then Diego could shake the guilt that sat at the pit of his stomach. 

“...Diego?” A gravelly voice mumbled, its owner not sounding one bit like his usual overzealous self. 

A pair of glassy eyes were looking at him in confused misery. Diego reached out for his brother’s forehead with a frown. “Hey, bro. You sick?” 

Klaus shuddered a bit and shrugged. 

“Well, you’re definitely warm.”

He listlessly shrugged again and let out a dry painful cough “Astute observation, Doctor. Will I live?” 

“Clearly you’re not that sick if you’re still being an asshole,” Diego said evenly. “Why are you even down here? You should be in bed.”

Klaus made an effort to sit up slightly and rolled his eyes in exaggerated irritation. “You sound like dear ol Dad,” he paused to thickly sniffle, “ ‘Number Four, if you cannot sleep in your own bed, in your own room, you can sleep outside!” 

Diego scoffed as he remembered those exact words from Reginald. Klaus had never liked to sleep in his own bedroom, even from their earliest years. He would regularly sneak into Ben’s room for comfort after the others were woken by his screams. It was only after Ben’s death that Klaus wandered into Diego’s room on occasion, always shaking, always as though he had just seen a ghost...

“You never did like to be alone at night,” 

Klaus sneezed wetly and groaned, pawing at his aching sinuses. By the sounds of his voice, it was a wonder he could breathe at all. 

“Bless you.”

Klaus waved a dismissive hand, “They don’t shut up...it’s not news, Di.”

“Who…? Oh…” Diego said dumbly. He swallowed thickly, trying to push down a resurgence of guilt. Their siblings, himself included, spent most of their teenage years simply assuming their senance brother was too stoned, too distracted, too human to truly access his powers. Of course, seeing Klaus fresh out of rehab after all these years did nothing to help his family reputation. It was only recently, with Ben’s sudden appearance, that Diego found himself remembering. The mausoleum, the nighttime screams, the pills and drinks and needles to silence dead voices. 

“You do realize I see the dead, right?” Klaus rasped into the silence. His voice didn’t often sound serious, but the current combination of his roughened voice and emotional exhaustion turned the air tense. “I’ve been sober for months, longer if you count ‘Nam. So all the ghosties are out and ready to play.”

Diego dropped down into the armchair adjacent to his brother with guilty defeat. “Klau-”

He was interrupted by another harsh cough. “They don’t stop yelling. And I’m so fucking tired, I’m so tired…” Klaus whimpered softly and curled around himself. “I feel so sick,” he mumbled weakly. “I just want them to stop.”

“Ya know, when we were kids..and y-you’d come back from Dad’s special training shit, I-I wished I could just tell all the ghosts to leave you a-alone.” Fuck his stutter, fuck his pathetic inability to be vulnerable--with his sick, scared brother no less. 

Klaus scoffed, “Excuse me, dead people. Kindly fuck off, you’re upsetting my brother,” he coughed again, “Was that your master plan?”

“Basically…”

Klaus’ eyes wandered around the room, no doubt considering how the ghosts present would respond to Diego’s pleas for silence. He cracked a smile. “How wholesome of you, mi hermano.”

Diego shifted uncomfortably around in the armchair, “Yeah, well, ya know...I can get you water and ibuprofen. Won’t shut up all the dead people around, but maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

Klaus hummed in sleepy, miserable agreement. His eyes were already starting to close again. 

A few painkillers wouldn’t stop the screaming that was no doubt reverberating around his brother’s head, Diego reasoned as he went off in search of medicine. It wouldn’t bring back Dave from the dead, it wouldn’t make sobriety any easier. But maybe it was enough for today, at least until the sun came up.   
He certainly hoped so.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for indulging me, more stories to come my dudes.


End file.
